


Just Gravy

by LoudenSwainfangirl



Series: Who Says Marriage is Bad for Your Sex Life? [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Jobs, Chef Dean Winchester, Doctor Castiel, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Married Couple, Supernatural Kink Bingo 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-23
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-07-14 05:46:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16034216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoudenSwainfangirl/pseuds/LoudenSwainfangirl
Summary: Castiel comes home after a challenging day at work. Luckily his husband is waiting to ease his distress.Part of a series but can be read as a stand alone.





	Just Gravy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Michi27](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Michi27/gifts).



> Happy, Happy Birthday Michi27!! <3  
> You are a gift to all fic authors.
> 
> SPN Kink Bingo 2018 Square filled: Destiel
> 
> Beautiful artboard created by RooBear68! (Warning, the art located at the end is NSFW)

Dean Novak pulls up the lid of the stock pot and inhales as the steam billows over and past his face. When he runs a spoon through the Ragu, he’s pleased to find the chuck roast is pulling apart nicely.

He nestles the lid back into place, takes a peek at the garlic bread then throws a pinch of salt into the pot of water that’s just reached a rolling boil.

Dean glances at the fresh pile of soft, cut dough and contemplates if he should risk cooking them early or wait. He decides it’d be better to wait. Based on Castiel’s numerous messages throughout the day, Dean knows his arrival home could be in minutes or it could be hours.

Much to Dean’s delight, the front door creaks open just as he’s setting the spinach salad onto the dining room table. He lights the two red pillar candles acting as a centerpiece and gives the table one final look over. The massive cherry wood table that’s seen many dinner parties is currently set for two. The salad plates, silverware and water glasses are in place. Dean gives the spread a final nod, tosses the lighter onto the matching sideboard then leaves the room.

Dean finds Castiel standing in front of the closet to the left of the front door. His shoes are in a jumbled heap just inside the front door which gives Dean his first clue his husband has had one helluva day. His hair is disheveled as if he’s been tugging at it all day and his light grey scrubs are rumpled. Castiel’s shoulders slump heavily as he hangs his coat. His stance alone makes Dean anxious to wrap his arms around Castiel and he wastes no time doing that very thing. His bare feet close the distance in three long strides. He presses up against Castiel’s back and encircles his ribcage.

“Hello, Dean.” Two words that convey how bone weary tired Castiel really is.

“Heya, Cas.” Dean says quietly before he lays a soft kiss right behind Castiel’s ear. “I’m glad you’re home.”

For a moment, Castiel sags against Dean’s chest, his hands gripping tightly to Dean’s forearm, his temple resting against Dean’s.

“Glad to be home. Sorry I’m so late. Never thought I’d get here.” He sighs heavily and spins in Dean’s arms, bringing them face to face. His hands slide down Dean’s arms and come to rest on his hips.

The thick smell of hospital clings to Castiel’s skin. The scent of dry gauze, sickly sweet antiseptic soap, sweat, and the acrid scent of hand sanitizer are all present and yet, the scent of Cas overpowers them all.  He cups Castiel’s face and kisses him lightly on the lips. When he pulls back his hands remain in place, thumbs skimming over the arch of cheekbone. Castiel’s skin is pallid, the dark smudges under his eyes almost disappear in the deep creases that weren’t there when Castiel left their home twelve hours ago and the corners of his mouth are turned down into the scruff that has moved way past a five o’clock shadow.

“You’re right on time,” Dean’s quick to reassure him.  “Dinner’s almost ready. Can I get you a drink? Beer or..” Dean lets his words fade and fights the urge to cringe when Castiel responds with a firm, ‘Or.’ He gives Castiel one more kiss then releases his face. “Go change, I’ll finish up in the kitchen.”

He watches Castiel’s form as he climbs the stairs to the second floor and he hopes he’s able to, at the very least, take away at least some of the sting of his hurt.

The garlic bread is finished and the thick pappardelle noodles are boiling in the seasoned water by the time Castiel enters the kitchen, the smell of citrus shampoo preceding him. Dean’s happy to see him looking a little more relaxed in a navy t-shirt and black cotton shorts.

Dean holds out the tumbler with ice and two fingers of honey whiskey. He’s waiting with the bottle to refill after Castiel downs the entire contents in one swallow. “That good, huh Babe?”

Castiel leans against the counter and scrubs a hand first over his face then through his hair.

“Gabriel may be as good as and efficient as ten nurses but that doesn’t mean the ER doesn’t need more staff.”

Dean winces as Castiel slams back his drink. “When was the last time he took a vacation? Maybe if he wasn’t around they may start to listen to you and send you more staff. That dude’ll work himself to death.” Dean pauses a beat before adding, “must run in the family.”

Castiel nods his head curtly then looks Dean in the eye. “We could all use a vacation.”

“Well hallelujah and praise whoever,” Dean cries out as he throws his oven mitted hands into the air after setting the bread on the trivet. “I’ve been trying to get you to realize that for two years!” He flicks his wrists until the mitts fall to the counter then grabs Castiel around the waist. “What do ya say? I’m thinking toes in the sand, couple of them little umbrella drinks in hand and matching Hawaiian shirts.” He leans into Castiel and lowers his voice. “Or matching thongs. You pick.”

The first genuine smile of the evening spreads over Castiel’s face and even if he answers in the negative, Dean feels as though he’s already won. Before answering, Castiel kisses Dean. “That’s sounds perfect.”

Dean nods his head once then turns away, a new spring in his step. “I’m gonna start the planning tonight.” He grabs a spoon from the utensil drawer and dips it into the sauce then blows gently on the contents. “But first I need to take care of my guy. Taste.”

Castiel’s lips cover the spoon and a moan bubbles up from the depths of his throat. “Ragu?” he asks as he peeks into the pot.

“Haven’t made it in a while. I was thinking about adding it to the menu. I made it with chuck roast instead of sausage. I think it’s considered a comfort food. It’ll fit into the theme of my little hole in the wall place, right?”

“Dean I'm not even going to dignify that last statement of error. But yes, it is a comfort food, especially when you make it.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Does it need more pepper flakes? I know how you like it spicy.”

“I do like spice but to answer your question, no you’re perfect.”

“Cas! Not me,” he jabs a finger at the stock pot, “the sauce.”

“Dean don’t argue with me,” Castiel tells Dean as he arches an eyebrow. “I know what I said.” He emphasizes his words by pinching Dean’s ass cheek.

“Oh.” A surge of arousal flares inhim but he quickly ramps it down. Tonight is about Castiel. “I like it when you’re bossy.”

The playfulness falls from Castiel’s face and he picks up the bottle of Jack. Dean watches as he pours his third helping and knows there’s only one thing that makes his husband drink like that and it isn’t being short staffed. “Cas, why don’t you go into the dining room and start on your salad? I bet the only thing you’ve eaten all day is that awful stuff from the vending machines.”

“I’d rather wait for you. What can I do to help?”

Dean takes the colander Castiel has picked up. “You can help me by getting off your feet, Dr. Novak. I’m not going to eat salad anyway. Wait, I know, you can take the bread with you.” The knife flies through the aromatic bread before he piles the slices onto a small platter.

Dean laughs and slaps Castiel’s behind as he grumbles unintelligible words. “So mouthy,” he says with a shake of his head.

Dean quickly sets about draining the noodles. Next he dumps them into the stock pot, adds a little butter then folds the sauce around the pasta. The meat as fallen apart just as Dean had hoped. He ladles out two portions, grates fresh mozzarella over the top then finishes them with a dash of dried parsley.

Castiel is setting his empty salad plate to the side as Dean enters the dining room. He’s at the end of the table that seats eight. Dean slides a steaming plate in front of Castiel then takes the seat to his left

“Dean, this, as always, is amazing.” Castiel sets his arm onto the table, palm up and waits for Dean to place his hand in his. “You didn’t have to do this. I know with Benny out on his honeymoon it hasn’t been easy for you.”

Benny Lafitte is not only Dean's sous chef, he's his right hand man and closest friend next to Cas and Sam.

Dean gives his hand a squeeze then releases it. He flicks his cloth napkin across his lap. “Nah. I managed to run _Just Like Mom Used to Make_ just fine before that lumbering Cajun came along.”

Despite Dean’s tone of love, Castiel seems upset he may have offended him. “Dean, that’s not–“

Dean holds up a hand. “I know, Cas, I’m just teasing. You and I both know finding  Benny was one of the best things to happen to not only my restaurant but to us as well. Oh and I guess Donna would probably appreciate it as well.”

Sherrif Donna Hanscum had been one of Dean's most frequent customers at the restaurant starting since his first week of opening his doors. Her weekly lunch stops expanded to an occasional dinner meal right around the time Dean hired Benny on. It turned out Dean's chicken pot pie wasn't the only thing bringing Donna around.

He gives Castiel his warmest smile and holds up his fork. “Eat while it’s warm.”

Castiel’s hand freezes mid air and tilts his head to the side. “You aren’t going to feed me, are you Dean?”

He looks at his fork and swallows thickly before chuckling. “Well _now_ I’m not gonna!”

“Fuck, I’m just batting one outta a thousand, aren’t I?” Castiel sighs as he leans back into his chair.

Dean sets down his fork and pushes his chair away from the table. He stands up but bends at the waist in order to bring them face to face. Castiel doesn’t move as Dean kisses his temple then moves down along his jaw. His chin tips up to the left when Dean arrives at his mouth.  

Dean braces his weight on Castiel’s chair with one hand and grips the back of his head with the other. Their lips slot together and part to allow access. Dean holds back the heat from his kiss. He only wants Castiel to know he’s loved and safe to be himself. Today was difficult but he’ll get past it with time. Truth is, the most a bad day for Dean entails is an over seasoned batch of macaroni and cheese or an unfavorable review written by a restaurant critic. That all pales in comparison to a flat line despite all efforts put forth.

Castiel inhales sharply through his nose as he plunders his tongue further into Dean’s mouth. Dean feels a tug at his waist when Castiel hooks his fingers through his belt loops. He steps around the corner of the table, narrowly escaping a painful brush with the wood. Castiel’s hooked fingers maintain their hold.

“Cas, I didn’t mean to –“

Cas cuts him off with another kiss. “I did. I’m suddenly not very hungry at the moment.” He tugs again, this time bringing Dean down across his lap.

If you can’t beat em, join them, Dean has time to think before his mouth latches onto Castiel’s neck.  He moans into his mouth when Castiel pushes his flannel shirt off his shoulders then pulls each limb free.

Without breaking contact, Dean pushes to his feet and wraps his arms around Castiel’s ribcage. Now he does end the kiss as he pulls him to his feet and spins them around. He reaches around Castiel’s body but stops when a hand clamps down over his wrist. “Dean, don’t even think about sweeping that table clear.”

Dean feels a scowl creep onto his face. “I’m trying to be romantic here, Cas, and you keep throwing roadblocks up at me.”

Cas returns the scowl and pushes both dinner plates in a gentle bulldozer method across the length of the table. He leans further over and blows out the candles. “I said I wasn’t hungry right now, Dean, but I have a feeling I will be soon. Not to mention I’m not about to let all your hard work be pushed onto the floor.”

Dean’s next comment dies in his throat as Castiel pulls off his shirt, giving Dean an eyeful of tanned skin, a patch of greying chest hair and a soft stomach. Dean’s own piece of heaven on earth. This time, Castiel doesn’t stop him when he slides his hands under Castiel’s ass, picks him up, drops him onto the table and pushes him to his back.

Slotting between his thighs, Dean drapes his body over Castiel as he latches his mouth over a nipple. His teeth scrape over skin as his tongue flicks. Sliding a hand between them he palms the outline of Castiel’s rapidly filling cock.

He bats the hand away attempting to release the button on his own jeans. “Nuh uh, this is about you.” He silences Castiel’s protests by framing his face with his hands and sealing their mouths together. He ruts against him as his hands comb and tug through Castiel’s still damp hair, making them both tremble with need.

He breaks from the kiss to move down Castiel’s body. He starts by nibbling over his collarbone as his hand slides down over his ribs and hip.

Next he revisits each, now, purple nub of nipple before laying a trail of open mouth, sucking kisses over the expanse of his skin.

His knees bend as he reaches Castiel’s waist. He lets out a gasp when he’s met with the head of his cock peeking from the waistband of his shorts. He _really_ loves it when Cas goes commando.

He wastes no time mouthing over the soft cotton of his shorts and smirks when he hears Castiel’s head thump against the table and his ankles bump against Dean’s ass. He flicks his tongue through the glistening slit and hums over the bitter taste. Castiel is readily compliant when Dean tugs at the material of his shorts. The garment drops to the ground somewhere of the vicinity of Dean’s outer shirt.

He takes a brief moment to take in the sight of his husband sprawled out before him. The fact he's wearing not a stitch of clothing while Dean’s completely covered makes heat flare through every nerve ending in his body. _Mine_ is all he's able to think. _Always and forever._

He pushes against Cas’s thick thighs until his heels rest on the edge of the table. Kissing up past his calf, Dean bites and sucks until a bright red mark appears on his inner thigh while his hand grips and strokes over his cock.

“Dean! Dean, feels good. Love it when you mark me up.”

Dean shifts his crouching stance- his thighs are already burning but he won’t pay that any mind until much later in the evening – he runs his tongue through the deep furrow of Castiel’s hip before licking the underside of his shaft. He pulls his cock to the side in order to suck briefly at each testicle. When he’s satisfied by the sounds raining down from above, he releases the pebbly skin and returns to his cock.

Now, as he reaches the summit, he encases his cock head and pushes as far down as his reflexes will allow. He increases suction as he descends and the saliva pools in Dean's cheeks before dripping down Castiel’s shaft easing the slide of his mouth as he bobs his head and strokes with a tight fist.

Castiel’s hip rise off the table and thrust upwards. Fingers entangle in his hair and he feels his cock throb with neglect. He reaches down, pops open the button of his fly and pushes down the zipper, moaning at the slightest bit of relief.

Castiel echoes back with a groan of his own as the vibrations run through him. “God damn, DeanDeanDean.” The thrust of his hips are timed to his chant of Dean’s name.  

Unable to hold off any more, Dean spits into his palm then frees his own cock. He returns to Castiel with renewed vigor. His hands and mouth all quickly fall into a synchronized rhythm against the backbeat of Castiel’s litany of incoherent words and sounds.

When the need for oxygen overpowers him, he pulls back with a loud pop, tucks himself back into his jeans, wets two of his fingers then swallows Cas's cock down again. Castiel’s calves find their way over Dean’s shoulders and Dean feels his heels digging into his back. The pressure of Castiel’s urgency spurs Dean on and he rubs his dampened fingers around Castiel’s puckered hole.   

Dean doubles his efforts when Castiel’s thighs begin to tremble and his rhythm becomes sporadic. “Dean!” His back arches off the table as Dean inserts the tip of his index finger and tugs at his opening. His action has the desired effect as Castiel finds his release. He calls out Dean’s name again as the first drops hit the back of Dean’s throat. He flattens his tongue and curls it as he milks him dry.

Castiel’s body goes limp on the table and Dean guides his legs to dangle off the end. “Holy shit.” Castiel breathes out as his fingers rake through his hair. “That was unexpected.”

Dean grabs Castiel’s outstretched hand and pulls him to a seated position. “Really, Cas? Where have you been the last eight years of our marriage?” He smiles into Castiel’s face as he attempts to smooth his hair. He knows its a futile effort but he enjoys it all the same. He cups Castiel’s face and kisses him sweetly.

“Hmm Mmm, no,” he says with a shake of his head when Castiel dips his hand down the front of his pants. “No. Later.” He takes a step backwards and zips up his fly. He’s surprised to find he isn’t very hard anymore but this fact makes it much easier for him to stick to his guns.

“Dean-”

Dean collects Castiel’s clothes and reluctantly tosses them to him. “No worries,” he tells him on a grin, “I’m not letting you off the hook.” He slides their plates to their original positions. “I just want you fueled and ready to work.” He wags his eyebrows at Cas as he pulls their seats forward.

Castiel studies Dean a moment, his intense stare like he's already mapping out his plan of attack, makes Dean's resolve waver for just a moment. Finally, Castiel nods his head once and sits onto his chair. “I think that sounds like an acceptable plan. Lets eat, I’m starved.”

 

@@@@@

Dean sits back into his chair on a groan, his hand on his stomach.

“You’ve outdone yourself again, Dean. Thank you, I needed that. All of it,” he adds as an emphasis to Dean’s special pre-dinner activity. “You know I was thinking about our earlier discussion.”

“Wait. Don’t tell me you’ve changed your mind already, Cas!" Dean cries out, already feeling defensive. "It’s been two years since we’ve gone anywhere. Now I know part of that is on me but-”

“No, Dean,” Castiel grabs Dean’s hand and kisses his knuckles. “We’re long overdue for a vacation.”

“Oh,” Dean exhales in relief. “Okay," he backtracks with a softer tone, "what were you thinking? Somewhere less tropical? I’m game for anything as long as I’m with you.”

“No, I think a beach sounds nice. I was thinking more along the lines of our company,” he explains with obvious hesitation.

Dean hangs his head over his chest in preemptive defeat because he _knows_ where this is headed and he _knows_ he won’t say no. “You want to invite Gabriel."

“And Sam.”

“What, like a double date kind of thing?” From their first introduction over a decade ago, Gabriel has never made it a secret he's had a school boy crush on Sam. Sam’s always taken it in stride but as far as Dean's aware, and he’s been wrong before, the feelings aren’t reciprocated.

“Yeah. I mean no,” Castiel quickly amends as he begins to stack their empty dishes. “They’d have their own separate rooms but our brothers are the people we spend the most time with. It might be nice to do more of that but away from all this.” He shrugs his shoulder and stands. “I don’t know. It’s just an idea. It may entail hiring a relief staff but we could extend the invitation to to Crowley and Charity. Benny and Donna would be coming off their honeymoon but we could still include them."

Dean gets to his feet, gently takes the plates from Cas’s grip and places them back onto the table. He rests his hands on Castiel’s shoulders. “I told you, Babe, as long as you’re there I’m game for anything. All I need is you by my side.” He waves his hand in the direction of the restaurant that’s located across the street. “All that other stuff is just gravy.”

“Look at you getting all philosophical on me!”

Dean can’t help but kiss the lopsided grin Cas flashes him. “Come on,” Dean tells him as he picks the plates up.“I made dessert.”

“Please tell me you made -”

“You wound me, Cas!” Dean cries in mock sorrow, “ _Of course_ I made you pound cake." He glances over his shoulder. "I have to apologize, I didn’t like the way the strawberries looked.”

“Its okay, Dean.”

“But the blueberries were perfect,” Dean tells him with satisfaction.

Dean hears a chuckle behind him as they enter their kitchen. “Like you said Dean.”

Dean slots the dirty plates I ti the dishwasher then turns on his heel to face Castiel when he doesn't finish his thought. “I say a lot of things, Cas. Care to elaborate?”

A smile splits through Castiel's face. A smile that reveals perfect white teeth, pink gum and makes the skin around his husband's eyes crinkle. A smile Dean knows will make his stomach dip every time he's fortunate enough to see it.

“It's all just gravy, Dean.”

Yes, Dean thinks as he closes the gap between them, that it is indeed.

 

 


End file.
